Party Animal
by FugitiveSGA
Summary: House Season Nine Episode Two. House parties hard and Wilson is dragged into a life of alcohol and hookers. Warning... foursome with House, Wilson and two hookers. If you don't like it, don't read it.


House Season Nine Episode Two: Party Animal

_(The usual disclaimers apply: I own none of this and do this for love, not money.)_

Wilson pushed the hooker on his lap aside again and put his head back in his hands. She pouted and said to House, "Mine's not interested," in the same tone a child might have said, "Mine's broken."

House lowered his head and looked at Wilson from under lowered brows. Charlene stood up from House's lap and stepped over to Wilson, lifting his face gently by the chin, "You stressin' out, baby?"

Wilson looked up, caught the look on House's face and said, "This is ridiculous."

House held his gaze and said deliberately, "Exactly."

Wilson's head lifted slightly and acknowledgement flashed in his eyes. Then House continued, "We have five million dollars and five months to spend it in. If we don't act ridiculous, we'll never spend it all."

Wilson looked puzzled, and opened his mouth, but the girls pushed him back and Charlene purred, "Well, in that case, we _sure_ can help you gentlemen."

House smiled and gave Wilson a puzzled look, but Wilson just closed his eyes and turned to ask the girl now trying to crawl back into his lap past Charlene, "So, what's your name then?"

She smiled happily and said, "Honey."

House laughed, "Perfect."

Then he said to Charlene, "Don't worry, three more drinks and Jimmy here will be an animal. Trust me, I've partied with him before."

Charlene giggled, scooped a couple of drinks from a passing tray, handed them to Wilson and Honey, and came back to sit in House's lap.

After a few minutes of her attention, House glanced over at Wilson, who was being plied with drinks by Honey and relaxing more and more every minute.

"You wanna go back to your room, baby?" Charlene asked House.

House looked up at her and said, "Not yet. Wait until he's drunk enough, then we'll take both of them with us."

Charlene's eyebrows rose, and she said, "Well, meanwhile, let me get you ready."

House tilted his head back and rolled his eyes up as she dropped to her knees in front of him and loosened his trousers. Vaguely, he heard Wilson protesting about something Honey was doing to him, and House called to Honey, "More drinks! I _told_ you, you won't get anywhere with Wilson sober!"

Honey disappeared off Wilson's lap to get another drink, and he looked across at House. Charlene had her face down over House's lap and House's head was tilted back in ecstasy. As Wilson looked at him though, he slowly rolled his head to the side, winked at Wilson and said, "Oh-h-h… " Wilson shook his head at House's antics, but House just grinned cheekily and said, "Hey, Jimmy."

The party rolled on, and as Wilson consumed more and more drinks, he vaguely became aware that Honey was a smoking hot woman with admirable people skills. A hand on his arm interrupted him, as House tugged at his sleeve and said huskily, "Come on, let's you, me and the girls get some privacy."

Wilson looked around and decided that was a very good idea. Most of the people at the party were already too drunk or high to care what was happening around them, but several people were staring at them. He nodded and wobbled to his feet, and he and Honey followed House and Charlene to an empty motel room.

Wilson's body felt warm and relaxed, and the alcohol was giving him a buzz. He was surprised to see the room was a suite, and more surprised when House propelled him by one arm onto the bed. Wilson asked blurrily, "Is this a king-sized?"

"Yes. Shh," said House.

Wilson gave a soft, "Oof," when House pushed him back onto the bed, and Charlene and Honey flanked him. House reached for his already loosened shirt and began undoing buttons, but Wilson batted his hand away and looked at the girls, feeling his face heat up.

House laughed and said to Wilson, "I don't think we're going to shock _them_, no matter what we do." He looked to Charlene and Honey who smiled and shrugged. Honey started working on removing Wilson's trousers while House went back to undoing his buttons. Wilson pushed up onto his elbows but was gently but firmly pushed back by Charlene with a hand on each shoulder. He lay back, muttering, "House…" in a warning tone of voice, then asked House, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to do _you_," murmured House with a smile, "And they are being paid by me, to do exactly the same; _you_."

"Seriously?" Wilson looked in a mild panic at the three faces surrounding him, then asked House, "Is this even legal?"

"I should probably know that," admitted House, then began to remove his shirt. Charlene helped him. Wilson asked, "Why should you know that?"

"Oh, I don't know, career criminal and all that…" smiled House and lowered his trousers.

Charlene and Honey had stripped almost unnoticed by Wilson, whose gaze was fastened on House, rather like a mouse looks at an approaching cat.

House stripped fully, and held out a hand to Charlene, who rummaged in her jacket pocket and produced a small tube. House took it and lathered himself with it, then knelt on the bed before Wilson. House glanced up at Honey and directed her, "Dick," then looked at Charlene and said, "Tits, for now."

Wilson squeaked a little as hot female lips engulfed his erection and his nipples, and the girls began to apply their professional skills to his already aroused, relaxed body. House manoeuvred himself between the girls and Wilson looked up and shook his head, starting to say something, but then House's gruff voice breathed into his ear, "Shut up and enjoy yourself," just as House's slick fingers entered his body. Wilson felt his eyes close in bliss and the harsh stubble of House's chin rub along his neck. He moaned and lay back, feeling overwhelmed.

Wilson turned his head and let his moans fall into House's ear, then gasped when those strong, slick fingers found his prostate and slipped across it. House nibbled on his ear lobe and hummed in response to Wilson's sudden exhalation of air.

Wilson turned his head to the side a little on the pillow, so that he could hear every gasp, every deep moan from House. Every breath in his ear and every faint scrape of stubble along his neck, sent a tingling sensation through his body. He arched in mute protest as House slipped his fingers out from his body, then arched again as House replaced his fingers with his slick, hard member. House slipped himself slowly inside Wilson, and Wilson turned and used his hands to pull their mouths together. He kissed House slowly at first, but gradually the kisses became more frantic as House began to pump himself inside Wilson faster and faster. Charlene was forced to match their rhythm, so every time House plunged into him, Wilson felt Charlene's mouth pump down onto his own swollen member as her face was pushed onto his stomach. He felt like he was going to explode. Little stars began to build behind his vision, sparking every time Honey's teeth closed a little harder at his nipples.

Wilson shook his head and managed to find his voice, "House, I'm not going to last… not like this."

"Try to keep it up, Jim, we're all paid up for the night, you know," House's gravelled voice came back, and Wilson tried to shake his head, then forgot to when his body arched up again in response to House thrusting himself even deeper inside his body. He felt the stubble scrape across his cheek and then House was kissing him eagerly again.

Wilson felt himself begin to moan repeatedly, then cry out, then swear profusely. He felt House's movements change to sharp, swift thrusts that buried House deep into Wilson's body, and heard House's grunting breaths become deeper and more guttural with every pounding thrust of House's body. The two women were forgotten, distant footnotes in Wilson's mind. The blood in his veins felt like it was on fire.

Suddenly he heard House give a deep cry halfway between pain and triumph and felt House's hot seed flood into his channel. The sensation was enough to tip Wilson over the edge and stars exploded behind his eyes as his body clenched again and again around House's. He heard a faint spitting noise and realised that he had come into Charlene's mouth. House must have heard it too and realised the women were still with them.

Wilson distantly heard House's voice, "Out," and heard the two women getting dressed. A minute later he heard the lock snib quietly behind them as they departed.

He opened his eyes to see House's familiar blue eyes, and asked hoarsely, "Why did you send them out?"

House shook his head and declined to answer. He rolled off Wilson onto his left side and pulled the other man's head close to his chest, then stroked his hair repeatedly, silent and looking contemplative.

After a while Wilson pulled House's face towards him for a kiss, and House responded, surrendering to the kiss with closed eyes and a contented sigh.

They kissed for a while, then Wilson pulled House snugly back against his chest and closed his own eyes. Contentment must be contagious, thought Wilson. He was surprised when House whispered, "You've changed everything."

"….How?"

"It's… better," murmured House sleepily. Wilson felt him slump as sleep claimed him fully.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny; lovely for some. Not so for the hundred or so revellers who greeted the dawn with a chorus of retching and cursing.

Wilson woke up and winced. His head felt like a vice was clamped around it, and he realised what had woken him when he heard the sound of heaving coming from the bathroom.

He called out, "You okay?"

A string of curses made him smile ruefully, and he forced himself up out of bed and dragged on his trousers, then hunted around for his shirt. He found it, and rummaged through House's shirt until he came up with the Vicodin. He looked thoughtful, then went out the door.

He came back shortly with a syringe and knocked politely as he entered the bathroom. House said muzzily, "What?" then "Ow! Hey!" as Wilson pulled his trousers down off his hip and stabbed a needle into House's butt.

"Stemetil," explained Wilson, "Will stop the nausea and let you keep these," he handed House two Vicodin, "-down long enough for them to actually work."

House nodded gratefully but asked, "What are you doing carrying that around with you?"

"I have a supply in case the cancer gets too bad; painkillers, anti-nausea meds, the usual suspects."

"Hmm," nodded House in understanding, and Wilson said, "In about ten minutes you should be fit for coffee."

He patted House on the arm and left the bathroom, putting the used syringe carefully back in his medical bag in a small, narrow disposal canister.

House groaned and leaned his head against the vanity unit next to the toilet, then slowly pushed himself to his feet, muttering to Wilson, "I thought you drank more than I did last night."

"_Nobody_ drank more than you did last night."

"Well, not all of us are lightweights," taunted House.

"Who's the one with his head hanging over the toilet? Not me," parried Wilson a lot more cheerily than he felt.

"What happened to Charmaine and um…."

"Charlene and Honey. You sent them home, rather abruptly, at the end of our little… experiment."

House hobbled out of the bathroom, looking brighter already, and smiled at Wilson, "You're so cute when you're coy."

"I'm also still a _bit_ hungover and likely to hit people who irritate me."

"Kinky, baby," quipped House and leaned over to plant a kiss on top of Wilson's head as he walked past to look for coffee.

"How do you… Jesus, how to you get out of bed hurling you stomach up into the toilet one minute and crack jokes what, three minutes later? You have the constitution of an ox."

"Balls of steel," grinned House, brightening visibly by the second. Wilson turned his back on him in disgust, but House didn't notice, having found the kettle and coffee.

Wilson pursed his lips and shook his head, then asked, "So."

"So."

"You don't have to repeat every word I say," Wilson pointed out a bit huffily.

"I find it helps you with your comprehension," grinned House.

"Oh, just… what's on the agenda for today?"

House frowned and tilted his head, like a dog hearing a distant noise, then decided, "We'd better stay here for another day. Wouldn't do to be pulled over for driving under the influence."

"The down side of the party lifestyle; it slows you down. Makes you lose days," sighed Wilson.

"The upside of you admitting your undying love for me; sex on the quiet days," countered House.

"Bastard. And I wouldn't call it 'undying' love."

There was no answer, and after a while Wilson got up and went over to House, putting his arms around him, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"_You're_ sorry!?" House turned to him, and Wilson flinched at the look in his eyes.

"Forget I said it, okay?"

House shook his head and turned within Wilson's arms, put his arms up around Wilson's neck and pulled him closer, "We could go for a look around the local area. Take a bus."

"You? On a bus? You'd start a riot."

"Starting riots is your specialty, remember? Oh, well, we could walk. I can still walk, you know."

"You know," said Wilson thoughtfully, all the while pressing his body sensuously along House's, "That's the downside of a road trip. How the hell are we going to indulge your penchant for drinking your liver into a complete pickle every day? We can't. We'll be too drunk to ride the next day. It will halve the distance we can cover."

"Sex," suggested House, "We could stay home and just have sex for the whole day."

The corners of Wilson's lips curled up, but he said, "So what, a day of riding, we get wasted, then on day two we just have sex all day?"

"Well, I figure that if we spend thirty-three thousand dollars a day, we should go through that five million in about five months exactly. That party last night cost me about twenty thousand, including booking the whole motel out, buying the alcohol and hiring the girls. We're nowhere near our required daily spend."

"Damn. We have that much every day?"

"Yup. Could have twenty girls doing you, Jimmy my boy."

"Like sharks at a feeding frenzy," said Wilson, looking at House with an expression which obviously sent a chill through House, "And there will be nothing left of me at the end."

House fell silent. Wilson's ability to slip from his usual easy-going, positive style, to instant dark humour, usually left House in amused awe. Today, however, it looked as though House had just received a kick to the stomach.

Wilson asked, "As a matter of interest, why did you send those two away last night? Didn't you like them?"

House chuckled, "Hookers are like food. The only people who say they don't like them, are the ones who can't afford them."

"Okay then, but don't change the subject. Why did you send them away?"

House muttered something and Wilson asked, "What?"

"I wanted you to myself," snapped House, spitting out the words like he was admitting to murder.

House pushed Wilson away and limped angrily away through the motel room, leaving the other man bewildered.

Three days later, they were still at the same motel, because House had not, in that three days, sobered up to the point where he could ride the bike. Late on the third morning, Wilson awoke to the familiar sound of House emptying the contents of his stomach into the toilet and walked into the bathroom to survey House.

He glared at him and said, "Greg, you can't go on destroying your body like this! At this rate you'll be dead at the same time I am!"

House muttered, "Just trying to party hard and keep the daily expenditure up to the required level."

Wilson set his mouth and glared at House in silence, then tipped his head slightly to one side as he saw the look on House's face.

"My God," said Wilson, "Is that guilt, on your face?"

House was silent.

Wilson stared at him with a look of realisation on his face, "It was! It _was_ guilt! But… you don't actually have a conscience, so how could you possibly look guilty?"

House turned his face away said in a fake, whining voice, "You know I hate it when you try to think, honey…" It was the voice that usually irritated Wilson so much that he forgot what he was going to say next.

But Wilson would not be put off his train of thought, and said, "_What did I say_?" He went over what he had said to House in his mind, then stared at his friend, realisation dawning on his face.

Wilson said accusatorily, "You're going to destroy yourself along with me! That's your plan, isn't it?!"

House shrugged and pushed himself up off the floor awkwardly, then said with his voice laced with sarcasm as he stepped past Wilson, "I thought you'd think it was kind of sweet of me, really."

"House…" Wilson raised his hand in the air, trying to express something but failing, then followed House out into the motel room.

House poured another whisky.

Wilson stepped up behind him and said quietly, "It's wrong. You're worth more than this. You know you are."

House was silent, then took a swig of his drink, and replied "Jim… I just don't think I can do it. The Vicodin…."

Wilson declared emphatically, "You have to wean yourself off the Vicodin and get healthy!"

House turned on him abruptly, "What _for_? Why do I need to live…" he tapped his leg with his cane, "like this… any longer than… after you… there's just…" He faltered to a stop and stared at Wilson, his face angry and frustrated.

Wilson tilted his head.

House met Wilson's eyes and said, "Vicodin's not meant to stop that kind of…" he stopped again, bit his lip, then looked even angrier. His fist clenched on his cane.

Wilson's eyes widened as House, in an explosive burst of temper, threw the whisky glass on the floor and called out, "I'll be back later." Wilson jumped at the noise and stared after House, but made no move to stop him. The door slammed behind House.

Wilson looked at the shattered glass on the floor, and leaned over to pick up the largest piece, a sharp, curved piece about a third the size of the original glass. He walked up to the closed door, put his hand flat against the door and looked vulnerable for a moment. Then slowly he smiled, and with a last adoring look after House, sighed and began to clean up the rest of the glass.

There was the roar of a motorbike outside as House took off, but Wilson did not look up.

Many hours later, the lights in the motel were on. It was dark outside. Wilson was sitting reading a book on the sofa. He was in shorts and there was an angry red patch on his thigh with dark ink marks on it. There was the sound of the door opening.

House limped in, seemingly sober.

Wilson nodded at him and House sat down on the sofa beside him. House leaned over curiously and asked, "Tattoes?"

Wilson smiled, "Why not? I don't have to worry about regretting them when I'm old."

House looked away and fell into a long silence, which Wilson did not interrupt.

House said very quietly, "There's no reason for me to be here."

Wilson galvanised and looked up at him incredulously, letting the book drop to his knees then snatching it up with a hiss when it landed on the tender flesh, "_What_?"

House obviously realised he might have been misinterpreted, "Not _now_. I mean, in five months. When you're gone, there's no reason I should stay."

Wilson stared at him for a long time, then said, "What about me? Isn't the only way we live on, in the memories of our friends? If you're gone, who's going to remember me?"

House fell silent and twisted his head to stare at the tattoo. "Is that an angel?"

"No, it's a _dragon_!"

"Really? Looks a bit, you know, _cute_."

Wilson grimaced at the tattoo but then put the book aside and turned to him, doggedly changing the subject back, "You can still be useful. You're still a brilliant diagnostician. You can save hundreds, thousands of lives."

House sighed, and looked intently at Wilson, "Is that why I'm here?"

Wilson shrugged, "Maybe it is?"

House shook his head vigorously, "No, no… I mean… I could have stayed in Bali. I had enough money to last me a lifetime."

Wilson tilted his head curiously, "Yes. Why did you come back?"

House hung his head and was silent for a long time, then finally admitted, "I missed you."

Wilson pulled back a little and stared at House, looking overcome, "You went to _jail_. You're saying you went to jail for six months, just so you could come back and see _me_? You could have stayed in Bali?"

"Yes."

Wilson stared at him and asked, "I thought you had run out of money over there."

"No."

Wilson turned to face House and carefully wrapped his arms around him. House closed his eyes and said, "I really don't know what I'm going to do when you're gone."

Wilson closed his eyes and hugged House tighter. House leaned into the contact, slowly letting his head drop onto Wilson's shoulder.

Wilson whispered, "You said yesterday, we've got five million dollars in the bank and five months. You make sure you _last_ that five months, okay?"

House's lips curled up in a slow smile, "You aren't going to try to tell me to stay around when you're gone, then?"

"I can't even control you when I'm here. What hope do I have when I'm dead?"

House flinched, but whispered, "Deal." He tucked his head further into Wilson's neck and sighed.

Wilson said quietly, "You told me yesterday, but I wasn't listening. You said we had all that money to spend, but you didn't mention keeping any cash for _after_ the five months… for yourself. I can add two and two, Greg."

House smiled into his neck, "It just takes you twenty-four hours."

Wilson huffed a laugh, "Well, in my defence I did have a hooker in my lap when you said it."

"Always an excellent defence," chuckled House approvingly, "We'll make a party animal of you yet, Jimmy."

After a long time House looked up, "Does your bike have fuel? We'll leave in the morning."


End file.
